


A Test In Memory

by bitterglitter



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Deception, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Memory Loss, Rick Being an Asshole, morty killing other mortys, pocket mortys - Freeform, someone save morty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterglitter/pseuds/bitterglitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if, in Pocket Mortys, you had to kill the other Morty instead of just knocking him out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Test In Memory

The weather on the planet was hot, two suns beating down on a dark red landscape, so hot that Morty had started to sweat as soon as they stepped through the portal. A glance behind him said that everyone else felt the spike in temperature as well, he gulped and noticed that his mouth was already starting to go dry. 

Ahead of him Rick didn't seem to notice the heat difference. It was like he wasn't even breaking a sweat in his long blue shirt and lab coat. He took a swing of his flask, which could have meant that his mouth was getting just as dry as Morty's, but he would rather place his bets on the fact that Rick was just a bit too sober to continue on. He slipped the flask back into his pocket and sighed; yep, he was sobering up. 

There were three others behind him, two that resembled him closely enough that they could all be triplets, save that one had a red shirt and the other had a leather jacket, and one that looked the same except for the antennas and blue skin. Morty shivered and kept his gaze ahead. 

"Jeez, Rick." Morty spoke up for the first time in what felt like hours. It felt strange talking, like he was breaking some unspoken rule that everyone else knew. "W-w-wh-where are we going, anyway?" 

A moment of silence past and Morty glanced back to see the others tense and staring down. Rick cleared his throat and Morty turned his attention back to him. "You ask a lot of questions, Morty." 

He frowned. A lot of questions? It was only one, one of the thousands buzzing around his head since this had all started, and it wasn't even the most important one.  _What was the green liquid Rick had pushed into his arm with a needle? Why were the knees of his jeans red and what was stuck under his fingernails? Why was his memory of anything past a few hours ago so fuzzy? Where did the other Mortys come from? Why did Rick have so many Mortys anyway, didn't he only need one? Why did nothing make sense in his head?_

The questions bubbled in his throat, hitting the back of his clenched teeth. It would be easy to just let them spill out in an outburst of annoyance and confusion, aim it all towards Rick and let the off feeling settle in his chest for the first time since he had woken up in a Healing Center, but he didn't. Mentally, he knew, it would be so much easier. But a small voice of reason -- or whatever it was, he didn't have a name -- instead warned him to hold it in. That would be easier long term, for everyone in their party. 

So they continued walking, shoes kicking up red dust all around them as they went. Rick was silent, he had taken so many drinks out of his flask since Morty had spoken that it was a wonder he hadn't ran out yet. He could feel the eyes of the other Mortys behind him, staring him down, making his skin crawl. 

He took a deep breath and tried not to choke on the dust. Rick's words from what felt like a lifetime ago ran through his head.  _"Don't think about it."_

Don't think about it, let you mind go blank. Focus on something else. So he did. He stopped thinking, for the time being. 

* * *

Even though his memory of other Mortys was fuzzy at best, the clear picture of their panicked expression seemed to hold up against the fog. This Morty was no different. A large whit sign with a logo  _Hungry for Apples_ hung from his shoulders, and borderline terror passed his features. Eyes wide and body tense, he locked gazes with Morty before he started to sprint. 

"O-Oh hell yeah!" Rick shouted, the first spoken words since he dismissed Morty's question. He started to chase after it, dashing forward, and Morty followed, watching his legs automatically do so. They didn't wait for his head to catch up with what he was doing. "I've been looking for one of you!" 

The Morty kept running, twisting and turning in a desperate attempt to get them off his trail. Another question was added to Morty's growing cloud of them in his thoughts.  _Why were Mortys so scared of them?_ He didn't have time to ponder his new question as his legs were too busy pushing him forward, keeping him close to Rick. 

Nothing made sense anymore. 

The Morty rounded a corner only to see a brown fence that looked like it belonged in a suburban neighborhood rather than an alien planet. Behind the fence were impossibly tall trees, providing a small bit of shade from the suns. 

Rick skidded to a stop and so did Morty, he could hear the others behind him doing the same. A large, almost wild smile was plastered onto Rick's face as he observed the cornered Morty. In any other situation Morty would be unnerved to see this kind of smile, but at the moment it gave him a feeling of relief to see Rick feel some sort of happiness. Happy was good, good for Morty. 

"Nic- _eeeeurp_ try _, Morty._ Can't outrun a Rick," Rick spoke as he pulled a small machine out of his lab coat. Morty was sure he had seen it several times during the day, he was sure Rick even explained what it was for a change, but he couldn't seem to pull that memory forward. He couldn't find it. 

Rick held up the small machine, pointing it towards the Morty who flinched back in response. It beeped, the screen flashed, and a second later Rick shouted in glee. "Aw, fuck yeah! A paper one, you- you little bastards always keep good shit on you." 

The Morty didn't say anything, instead pressed his back against the fence and glanced around, looking for any desperate escape he could make. Morty wondered if he would try to dash away again and they'd have to continue chasing after him. While he hated how goddamn scared the Morty obviously was, Morty was already soaked with sweat and running in this weather was awful. 

Turning around to face his Mortys, Rick still wore a cheerful grin. "Alright! Morty," he grabbed Morty's shoulder and for some reason Morty flinched, "y-you're up. Knock 'em dead." He pushed Morty forward towards the one that was currently trying to hide himself in the shade. 

He was up? What? He glanced back to see Rick still grinning, this was the longest that Morty could remember him doing that (not that he could remember much), and turned back to the other Morty. Neither one moved, standing frozen in place within the air of uncertainty around them. His eyes darted around, hoping to figure out just  _what_ he was supposed to do without having to ask Rick. 

"C-come  _on,_ Morty." Rick sighed from behind him, quickly losing that brief glimmer of excitement and replacing it with annoyance. "Thought you'd at least remember how to do this... Okay, Morty, use swing." 

Use swing? What the hell did that mean? 

Before he could even think to ask Rick what that meant his body was moving forward on its own, arm pulled back and shifting his balance to swing towards the Morty. His own movements happened so fast he couldn't process them, he didn't feel anything happening. It was like he was watching him do this instead of preforming the action. One moment he stood a safe distance away from the other Morty and then in the next he was right above him, hand clenched and watching a bruise form on the other's skin. 

_What the fuck._

"Haha!" The bubbling excitement of Rick's laugh shattered the heavy air hanging in the dust around them. "Damn, dawg, you are leveled the fuck up! Half health in one punch!" 

Morty turned his head to see Rick tightly holding the machine with an almost giddy expression. Behind him the other Mortys huddled together, each one wearing a different look; indifference, worry, guilt. Morty wondered what his own expression looked like, if it matched the swirling thoughts and feelings in his head, but no one was looking at him so he head no clue. They were all staring down the Morty sprawled out on the ground. 

"R-R-Rick?" Morty's stutter came out worse than usual, reflecting his high strung nerves. "W-w-wh-what's going-" 

"Oh shit, Morty, look out!" Rick cut him off, pointing past him with wide eyes. 

Morty only had a chance to look for a second behind him before a heavy weight knocked into him and he was on the ground. Dust quickly puffed up around them and Morty shut his eyes and tears stung his eyes as a result. Several rocks jabbed into his back, his arms were being pressed (more like crushed) against his sides. 

It took a second for the dust to clear and for Morty to be able to open his eyes again. When he did he saw he was face to face with the other Morty, the bruise on his cheek even darker up close. Another second went by of Morty thinking before he realized the other Morty was _hugging_ him. Well, a mixture of hugging and crushing into the ground, but Morty got the idea anyway. As soon as most of his senses returned to him he gave a shove, pushing the other off him. 

While he scrambled up to regain his footing he could hear Rick talking over the alarm bells going off in his head. Something about this was wrong, something was very very wrong and Morty knew he should remember, but it just wasn't there. 

"Da- _urp_ -ang, Morty. Your speed it shitty, but at least the defense is high." Any previous excitement or annoyance was not gone, replaced with the monotone voice he would sometimes get when making observations. "I- I sure do know how to pick - _eurp_ \- 'em." 

Slightly wobbly on his feet, Morty brushed himself off. He felt more confused than when they had stepped onto this planet and everything Rick said just made it ten times worse. He was used to Rick not giving a shit about Morty understanding anything, but instead of the usual dull acceptance Morty had gotten used to feeling, a wave of hot anger hit him. 

"Rick!" Morty shouted and spun around, the world spinning with him. "Wh-what the hell, man?!" Rick finally looked up from his machine and behind him the other Mortys flinched. "What- what the hell is going on? Where are we? W-wh-why the  _fuck_ am I fighting another version of  _me_?!" 

A look of pure apathy stared back him causing Morty's anger to flare. Rick sighed and tucked his machine away in his lab coat, replacing it with his flask. "You- you really don't remember, huh? Guess that chip worked a little  _too_ well." 

"What does that mean, Rick?!" Morty's throat ached with how he strained his voice to shout, dust scratching against the walls of his throat and piling down on his tongue. "What chip? What can't I- I remember? Why can't I remember anything more than- than up to a few hours ago?!" 

"Jeez, Morty,  _relax._ " Rick rolled his eyes and took a swing from his flask. "If I had known you- you'd be a little bitch about the whole thing I would've just left you at the daycare, but I didn't. Because I- I- I'm a nice Rick. Now let's just finish this. Morty, come back here, I'll get someone else do it because you can't seem to get your shit together." He sighed and slipped the flask back into his coat. 

 Morty allowed himself another look at the other Morty. His sign was slightly wrinkled due to his hugging and his cheek was starting to swell. What was the feeling that settled in his chest? Guilt? Probably, he didn't like fighting, much less fighting someone that looked exactly like him. Especially someone who's eyes were begging for help. 

He stood in place, letting the guilt press against his ribs and the alarm bells ring in his head before turning and shuffling to Rick's side. The feeling that came with this action ( _betrayal_ his mind whispered) made his stomach twist and his throat close up. Was his going to be sick? Maybe. 

Rick lightly patted his back, more of a touch than a pat, and nodded at the Red Shirt Morty. "You're up, champ." 

The Red Shirt Morty gulped, the look of guilt he wore quickly masked by indifference as soon as Rick looked over. "O- okay, Rick." He mumbled and Morty couldn't help but shudder at how their voices were exactly the same. 

Morty watched as Red Shirt Morty walked forward and the other Morty scrambled back. A sudden need to run forward, shield the other Morty from whatever they were doing, hit him. He stumbled back a few steps, closer to the other two Mortys. 

"Morty, use outburst." Rick said --ordered?-- and placed his hands on his hips. 

They watched as Red Shirt Morty started yelling, approaching the other Morty with each word. Morty couldn't exactly hear the words being yelled, the sounds muted like someone shoved cotton in his ears. 

The other Morty was back against the fence by the time Red Shirt Morty stopped yelling, but he had a glazed look in his eyes. His head fell back so he was staring at the orange sky, gaze unfocused and body slowing going limp. 

Is- Is he going to be okay, Rick?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. Rick turned and all Morty wanted to do was pluck the words out of the air and hide them away, hide them so Rick would stop staring at him with that uncaring expression. 

Rick nodded and Morty let a wave of relief wash over him. Only for a second. " _My_ Morty will be okay."

It happened so fast, too fast for Morty to be able to comprehend it until it was over. Only hours after it was over would the pieces of what he saw rearrange themselves to make some sort of sense. Bundled up underneath several blankets and clutching the sheets of a cot in both hands would Morty let himself remember it slowly. His eyes had only happened to look over at the Mortys just in time to see Red Shirt Morty pounce on the other. 

Fingers wrapped around a neck and squeezed, digging in with a bony grasp and rough nails. Horrified, Morty stood, unable to move, and watched the other Morty's eyes widen and hands twitch, but otherwise keep still. The only sign that Red Shirt Morty was actually pressing down on his neck were the coughs that began to surface; there was no change in expression or struggling like Morty had seen in movies or on TV. The other Morty lay limp, watching the sky above as his air became to run out. 

Suddenly the other Morty gave a quick thrash, his whole body lurching up to push Red Shirt Morty off, but whatever strength he had before was now lost from battle. His face turned colors, at one point matching the apple on his sign, and the light in his eyes grew dimmer and dimmer as he coughed more and more. 

Another trash, a harsh cough, widened eyes, and the other Morty went stiller than Morty thought was possible. The only sound around them, now that the coughing had stopped, was the wind and crinkling of paper as Red Shirt Morty climbed off. Long purple marks danced across the other Morty's neck, indents of where he had been choked. 

He couldn't breath, Morty couldn't breath just like he was the one that had been strangled instead of his mirror image. His chest refused to rise or fall and he couldn't get his hands to stop shaking. Gently, he reached up to press the tips of his fingers to his own neck, as if he'd feel the same bruises and indents, clenching his teeth when he felt nothing. 

Red Shirt Morty stood up and brushed the dust off him, looking down at the now gone Morty with a dull look. One of acceptance. Like it hadn't happened. He crouched back down and started to reach into the other's pockets, pulling out items and 

Morty spun around, stumbled back several feet, and threw up whatever food he had in his stomach --  _he couldn't remember what_ \-- and his vision danced with purple bruises and red splatters. He collapsed onto his knees and kept heaving onto the dust red ground, his own coughing sounding chillingly like the the coughs the other Morty made just before he --  _don't think about it._

He wasn't sure how long he knelt there, long enough for him to start dry heaving because there was nothing left to throw up. His vision was filled with red tinted memories of limp Mortys and blood covered hands, he could remember each expression of each one and he could read each emotion in their eyes; begging, pleading, hopelessness,  _regret, anger, hatred._

A shudder ran through him and he pushed himself back so he was sitting down. Sweat and vomit covered him, a thin layer of dust settling over his skin and clothes. He couldn't think, he didn't want to think, it was too hot to think, too painful to think. He repeated familiar words that was once given to him as a comfort in his head like a prayer, trying to push away the images of his memory that kept surfacing and changing yet always stayed the same level of horrific and replace them with the sound that would save his sanity. 

_Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about_

He screamed.

 

Silence passed for several minutes, no one daring to step close to him as he tried to get a hold back on reality. A painful, bitter reality, but a reality that would keep his feet under him. His coughing had stopped, replaced by hyperventilating, but that too had passed. He kept his eyes on the ground, watching the dust brush up from the ground and settle back in new spots as gusts of wind passed.

He could hear footsteps behind him. Most of them moving away from him, but a familiar set creeping close. He didn't turn when he saw the tall, lanky shadow settle in front of him, afraid if he did he would throw up again as soon as they met eyes.

"Morty," Rick spoke, but his tone was all wrong. His Rick -- _his_ Rick-- wouldn't speak in that tone, not after what just happened. Not after watching another piece of Morty's small sanity break off and shatter. His tone should be careful and light, approaching with caution, not cold and detached. "Morty, c-come on, we gotta-"

"No." Morty whispered, flinching at his hoarse voice. 

He waited for a reply that didn't come. 

"No," he repeated, staring down the shadow in front of him. "I-I-I'm not going anywhere with you. Not when- not when you're not my Rick." His voice only got softer as he went on, but the shadow of Rick shifted, showing he had heard. "You're not  _my_ Rick." 

His shadow made a familiar gesture of pulling something out of his jacket and there was the sound of something unscrewing. His flask. "Sorry to break it to y-you, Morty, but I am now." He could hear Rick down another drink and felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched forward, brushing git off. "Now, c-c-can you get up? Th-there's other Mortys around here." 

Morty couldn't see, he couldn't see, the world around him was blurring. Was this what it was like for the other Morty? Was this what his last glimpse of the world was like? Who was choking him, who- No. No one was, he realized, as he watched drops turn the light red soil dark. He was just crying. 

Only crying, not dying. 

Probably. 

"How- how many, Rick?" Using his name felt wrong, it made his tongue feel like it had turned upside down and nothing he said came out right. "How many did I- did I...?" 

"I dunno. It's y-your memory Mo- _oooerg-_ try." Rick's shadow shrugged. "How many did you kill?" 

Morty replied with silence. 

The hand was back on his shoulder, grip tighter than before. Morty didn't bother to flinch it off this time. "Y-y-you aren't going to get sick again, right, Morty? Cause if you are, I'm just going to send you back to the daycare." 

"... I-I'm fine." 

_Liar._

"I won't get sick again." 

_Hopefully._

"Let's j-j-just keep going." 

_Straight into hell._

Morty turned to look up at Rick, finally meeting eyes and his stomach  _did_ lurch but nothing rose up his throat. Cold eyes looked down at him, not looking at him like a grandfather did a grandson but a researcher analyzing a subject. That's probably all Morty was to this Rick; a subject to test things on. Shakily he stood, refusing to break eye contact with that cold stare. 

Rick looked him up and down, lips turning down at the vomit that stained Morty's jeans, and then shrugged. "Whatever y-you say, Morty." He turned around and walked back to the group of other Mortys, huddled together and whispering. Morty followed, closer than he'd like to admit. 

The Mortys cast unsure glances at him before getting back in line behind him. Once again he could feel them staring at him, but instead of unnerving him a sick sense of relief washing over him. At least he wasn't alone in this. Alone with crazy, stranger Rick. At least he had others he could semi-rely on.

* * *

 They walked in silence now, the only noise were the sounds of their footsteps and alien shouting far enough away no one seemed to worry. Without an outside source of stimulation (it had gotten boring to look around at the planet quickly with it's mostly unchanging landscape and lack of life, and Morty sure as hell didn't want to look at Rick or the other Mortys, not sure what it would do to his psyche) he was forced to wander around inside his head for the time being. 

His head buzzed with blurred memories and ached when he tried to remember a gap. Images flickered and sounds whispered and he was sure memories mixed together on accident considering the ones that made no sense chronologically. Recent memories were harder to remember. Anything close to when Morty woke up at the Healing Center game him the start of a headache. One thing did stick out in his head, though, one small brief memory of him and his Rick standing at a shop. A small chip held up to Morty's face in between two of Rick's fingers. 

A Morty Manipulator Chip. 

Small, silver, and shiny, Morty had stared and Rick's words came out muffled through Morty's thoughts. A small device that, when attached to a Rickless Morty, will cause the Morty to forget about his own past Rick and believe the new one was his own. You were supposed to press them in at the neck and they lit up green when working before turning the same skin tone as the Morty. 

He reached up and brushed the side of his neck, no longer imagining bruises, and shivered when he felt nothing. Of course he wouldn't feel anything, he realized, they were small enough it was almost impossible to find once attached. Unless you were the one to attach it. 

Finally his eyes drifted up to Rick and he allowed himself to glare. He wasn't sure how this Rick got ahold of him,  _those_ memories especially hurt (dark and cold and loud roaring), or why he decided to keep him, but resentment burned under his skin. He was just another Morty in this Rick's eyes, in countless Rick's eyes, but not to his own Rick. To his own Rick he was his grandson. 

Right? 

He couldn't dwell on those thoughts like he had when he discovered the true purpose of Rick dragging him around, discovered that there were thousands of Ricks and Mortys. There was no point in thinking about it, not when he realized that there was almost no chance of him finding his Rick again. 

Rick could easily find him, Morty knew this for a fact, but was Rick even around to find him anymore? How had they gotten separated in the first place? Did Rick even want to find him? 

_Stop thinking about it._

Up ahead of them Morty saw another group of Mortys, all huddled together around a red and orange alien. A flicker of a memory passed by his eyes and he pushed it down, instead focusing on how Rick tenses his shoulders and the Mortys behind him began whispering hushed worries. 

With his chip he new he wasn't going to get much more than the fog of memories he already had, and it was very unlikely his own Rick would come looking for him. Don't think about pointless things. Don't think at all. So he didn't. 

The battle went by in another blur and when it was over his hands were covered in oxygen stained blood from enemies he refused to remember. Rick laughed and smiled at the victory and the other Mortys allowed themselves to relax and smile in returned. Morty watched, not thinking about it, instead accepting this as his new life. Rick pat his shoulder with a look of pride that would have once caused happiness to swell in his chest. 

Acceptance washed over him. This would go on until this Rick got bored of it, like he got bored of everything, or until he got passed onto the other Rick. He didn't like it, the guilt hung heavy next to his heart, but what was a Morty without a Rick? 

They continued to walk forward, splattering the already red planet with more red. All the while Morty stared ahead, hanging onto words like he was hanging onto himself, shoving down memories and guilt and thoughts. 

_Just don't think about it._

**Author's Note:**

> Pocket Mortys is a fun game


End file.
